


The Rogue Radio Hour

by Luv15



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Married Couple, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-11 02:31:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10452990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luv15/pseuds/Luv15
Summary: The Rogues tune in to a conversation between Leia and Han. Time period: after ROTJ. The fledgling New Republic is being organized and the Alliance is mopping up the last vestiges of Imperial holdouts that are hanging out in the galaxy.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Don't follow any canon, sorry if that offends. Written for fun, not for fact. Don't own a thing except a 16-year-old vehicle in need of an oil change and new tires. Story came to mind after hanging out with my brother and his goofy friends who love to verbally torture one another. One of them is even named Wes! I'm all about happy crap re: H/L. There's nothing in my imagination's future view for them except the usual joys, trials and tribulations of married life. Mouse traps are set in the Solo house in my head.

“Millennium Falcon this is Rogue One. Come in, Falcon.” 

“Copy Rogue One. Falcon receiving, loud and clear.”

“That last blast rocked you pretty good, Han,” anxiety obvious in Luke Skywalker’s inflection. His sister was on that ship.

“Nothin’ we couldn’t handle, kid.” 

The freighter and two X-wings were returning from a diplomatic mission when they ran across a pair of renegade TIE fighters attempting to make a fool-hearty stand for the failed Empire. The Rogues made fast work of taking out the enemy.

“Actually, it’s Rogue 1 and 2, Han. We’re all on com with you.” Wedge Antilles was speaking. “Glad to hear that everything’s okay.” 

“Roger that, Wedge. Thanks for the back-up, Rogues. Falcon’s a little shook up, but we’re all good.”

Leia’s crisp voiced echoed over the system. ”Everybody is NOT good.”

“Leia! Are you okay?” Luke cried. 

The Rogues were intently tuned in to the conversation coming from the Falcon.

“Yes, Luke. I’m fine and so is Chewie. But SOMEONE,” she huffed, “wasn’t strapped into his CAPTAIN’s chair. “

“I’m FINE,” Han groused, mumbling, “Everything’s under control.”

“Han, I think your wrist is broken.” Leia’s words were laced with worry yet tinged with a know-it-all quality.

“I’d know if my wrist was broken…OWWW! Dammit, Leia, don’t TOUCH it!”

“Doubt Han has ever said THAT to her before,” Wes Janson offered. The Rogues roared, except for Luke.

“That’s my SISTER, Wes.” The Rouges laughed harder with that.

The sound of the couple’s banter continued through the com lines. The duo in the freighter either didn’t remember, or didn’t care, that their conversation was being transmitted to the four pilots occupying the escort vessels. 

“Do those two ever give it a rest?” Wedge asked with an amused lilt. 

“It’s like listening to an old holocomedy,” Hobbie chimed up. “Wish we could watch.”

“You are a pervert, Hobbie,” Janson crowed. ”But, yeah…I’d pay to watch.” 

“Guys, please!” Luke begged.

“Rogue One to Millennium Falcon.” Luke hailed the freighter again. Maybe they’d realize there were three gossip-loving Rogues absorbing their private interactions and would start to behave. Leave it to the Solos to have a public altercation when they weren’t even in public. “Are you injured, Han?”

“Falcon to Rogue One.” Han, slightly embarrassed, sighed. “No big deal. Just … sprained my wrist, I think. Slammed into the console when we took that last hit.”

“Leia’s ok, though?” 

“Yeah, just annoying the bantha crap outta me. Ask her again yourself in a minute. She went to the galley to get...SONOFABITCH!” Han cried. “That’s cold as a Wampa’s dick!"

“Of course, it’s cold! It’s ICE, you nerfherder. And, that is a disgusting analogy.”

A chorus of laughter from the Rogues. 

Leia’s ire swiftly changed to a concern-laced, “Oh, Han. It’s really swollen.”

Luke shot out a preemptive, “Shut up, Wes!”

“You wound me, Luke. I’m not that crass,” Janson hooted. 

“Yes, you are!” Hobbie and Wedge barked in unison.

“I’m FINE,” they heard Han cry and then grumble, “How’m I supposed to fly with this damned ice pack meltin' all over the controls?”

“You don’t have to. Chewie can take over,” came Leia’s quick retort.

Hobbie moaned disappointedly. “Show’s over if Chewie turns up. I can’t understand a kriffin’ word he says.” 

The exchange from the freighter continued with Leia’s, “Don’t give me that look, Solo.”

“I know the look she’s talking about,” Wes acknowledged. “I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of it.”

“Leia’s not afraid of that look,” Wedge said.

“I’m more afraid of her than him,” Hobbie admitted.

The Rogues quieted to take in more of the conversation from the Falcon’s bridge.

“Oh, Han.” Leia’s voice had transformed from an I’m-not-taking-anymore-of-your-nonsense tone to a tender coo of concern. “You’re hurt.”

“Gods damned right, Princess,” he hissed. ”My hand is being frozen off by this stupid ice wrap…. will you please stop fussin'…”

Leia, a touch miffed, “Will you stop acting like a 5-year-old and let me look?” Then, she was all soft again, “Oooooh, there’s a cut. Right above your eyebrow."

Han was even-toned yet a bit abashed. “Yeah, hit my head and wrist when…SHIT, that fuckin' hurts, Leia! Leave it alone!”

So much for even-toned. The Rogues were enjoying this. 

“You’re BLEEDING you arrogant ass,” Leia snapped back at him. “Hold still and let me look at it.” She brushed back blood-stained hair from his forehead, then tenderly, “It doesn’t look so bad, thank goodness, but you need bacta or you’ll have a scar.” 

“I already have a scar.” 

“Yes, you do.” Leia’s voice a sultry, sweet sing song. “I love that scar, but you don’t need another one, Scruffy.” 

The Rogues exploded in laughter with that.

“Oooooh, boy. This is rich,” Wes laughed and repeated, “Scruffy Solo!”

“Oooooh, boy, will Han kick your ass if you ever call him that,” Wedge shot back at Wes.

The Rogues couldn’t see Han jut his scarred chin up to his wife as she stood over him. Nor could they know that her lips grazed the healed-over gash and, after a few gentle kisses, covered his mouth with hers. All they knew was that things had gone dead quiet on the freighter side of the communications link.

“Think we lost contact,” Luke mumbled. 

“Bet Han and Leia haven’t,” Wes yowled.

“SISTER, Wes!”

“It’s okay, Lukie, they’re married now.” Hobbie patted Luke’s shoulder from his place in the co-pilot seat behind Skywalker. 

“Rogue One to Millennium Falcon.”

No response.

“Rogue One to Millennium Falcon. Come in, Falcon.”

Leia’s voice floated over the system, she was calling to the ship’s Wookiee co-pilot. Next thing they heard was Chewie’s growled response and Han’s rumbled, “Hey, pal. Take the controls? Leia’s gonna patch me up.” 

“So, THAT'S what the kids are calling it these days,” Janson cried.

“WES!” Luke yelped. “Rogue One to Millennium Falcon. Come in, Falcon.”

“Wrooohmmp.” Chewbacca was now at the controls.

“Hey, Chewie!” Luke called out, relieved his family members had left the conversation.

“How do you put up with them, Chewbacca?” Wedge asked. 

“MrWAHHHHHH maghehfhhf. Hahshshsh.” They didn’t know exactly what the Wookiee said, but the exasperation in his voice came through loud and clear. 

“Meet us in the Rogues’ locker room for drinks after we hit base, Chewie,” Wedge called out.

“Arwwwffgh mfwwshjah grllll wrrshhhskf.”

“Rogue One, over and out.” Luke clicked off the link with the Falcon.

“What’d he say, Luke?” Hobbie asked

“My Shyriwook’s not great,” Luke said. “But it sounded like, ‘Roger, that, but I’m not bringing Scruffy.’” 

THE END


End file.
